


Undecided Fate

by PFDiva



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blame the Discord, M/M, and also raised Jon with elias, i sure as hell do, listen a lot of things happened in this AU, the AU where Peter wasn't really a Lukas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 01:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20734235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PFDiva/pseuds/PFDiva
Summary: Elias tries to justify his actions to his husband and son.





	Undecided Fate

**Author's Note:**

> I wanna thank Luuny for the beta--couldn't have done it without you! I would also like to blame the discord for this entire fic existing! Keep on being the best bad influence a person could want!

[A tape clicks on.]

"This is Jonathan Jones, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement of Elias Jones, 4th August, 2016, regarding….I can't do this. I can't just listen to this tape after what he's _done_ to me. To us. I've gotten the broad strokes from Papa already. I don't need Dad's version of it, too. I don't."

[Deep, exaggerated breaths. A heavy sigh.]

"Use your words, Jon. That's what Papa always says. I can't talk to Dad about this. I don't want to talk to Tim or Sasha--"

[Sound of a chair scraping and a door opening.]

"_Martin!_"

[Distant sound of a chair scraping, followed by rapidly approaching footsteps.]

"Jon, are you okay?"

"No, I don't think I am. Come in, please."

[Door closing, two chair scrapes, then soft rustling, as of someone reaching out. Jon makes a wounded-sounding sigh.]

"It's ok, Jon. Whatever it is, it's okay."

"No, it's really not. I can't believe he-"

[Soft sob. Sniffle. More rustling.]

"I've got you, I've got you."

[Jon cries for several minutes while Martin continues to offer soft platitudes. Then, Jon stops crying. Sniffles. When he speaks, his voice is calm and collected again.]

"You know that Elias Jones is my father, correct?"

"Yes?"

"And that the monsters people talk about in statements--some statements--are real?"

"Yes, of course."

"Did you know that the Head Archivist is meant to do something pertaining to the monster associated with the Magnus Institute?"

"There's a monster associated with the institute?"

"Yes."

"And the Head Archivist has something to do with--didn't Elias hire you to be the Head Archivist?"

[There is a long silence, then Martin gasps in realization.]

"_No._"

"Yes."

"Surely, he didn't know--"

"He did."

[It's Martin's turn to sound wounded.]

"Oh _Jon._ I'm so sorry."

"That's not necessary. The problem is..."

[There is a plastic clatter, like something being picked up.]

"A tape?"

[A noise of something being handed over.]

"_Elias Jones?!_"

"I found this tape when I went to his office. I was going to….I don't know what I was going to do. But he wasn't there. And this was."

"Are you going to listen to it?"

"I don't know. I feel so many things."

[Martin sounds fond when he speaks.]

"And you're not good at that."

"No."

"Tell me about the feelings?"

"I am angry at my dad. He's done...something awful. To me, to Papa, knowing that it was wrong. He betrayed Papa. He betrayed me. I want to hate him. I don't. I need to know what's on here. I don't want to be alone while I do it."

"Do you want me to listen to it with you?"

"Yes. Yes, I think I do."

[Rattling as if a tape player was being opened and a tape being put into it.

Click.

We can hear cooking sounds like something bubbling, chopping being done, and we have interrupted Elias in the middle of bragging.]

"-he's doing _so well,_ Peter, I'm so proud of him."

[Peter's voice sounds faint with shock when he responds.]

"And you expect him to finish the Watchers' Crown…?"

"Oh, in a couple years, at the most. He's progressing much more quickly than Gertrude did, I knew he would. We've been training him for the position since he was young, you know that."

"Do I?"

"Mm-hm! Always ask questions, use your words, that sort of thing. I told you about the fact that he took your advice to use his words in order to talk to the Blackwood boy, didn't I? I didn't expect him to start things off with 'I don't understand what to do with tea,' but you know Jon. Very literal. It worked out for him, though."

[The sound of chopping continues into an expectant silence. Then slows when there is no response.]

"Peter?"

[The chopping stops, and there is the faint rustle of someone moving.]

"Peter?"

[Approaching footsteps as Elias's voice becomes more and more frantic.]

"Peter? Where are you? _Peter?_ PETER!!"

[Elias stops yelling. Then there is the clatter of something being picked up.]

"No. _No._"

[Elias sounds horrified, then furious. There's a loud clatter like something being roughly dropped onto a table. A chair scrapes, there is the rustling of someone sitting down, then the sounds of Elias straining. When he stops straining, he begins to whimper denial.

Click and silence falls.

Click and we hear the sounds of a phone ringing, as well as Elias's voice.]

"Pick up, pick up, pick up…!"

"Hello--"

"Peter! Where are--?"

"--this is the voicemail of Captain Peter Jones! I can't take your call right now, but please feel free to leave me a message and--"

[Elias makes a frustrated noise and Peter's voice cuts out. We hear frantic dialing and Elias once again pleading for Peter to pick up. He gets the voicemail again. There's a sound of effort from Elias followed by the sound of something smashing against a wall.]

"Oh. It's _you_ again."

[Elias sounds disgusted, but his voice moves closer.]

"Help me find him, you bastard. I've been looking and _looking_ and I can't _find_ him! It's been three days! Jon isn't distressed, not like that, but I don't think he knows."

[There is a dawning realization in Elias's voice.]

"Jon! Peter wouldn't just leave _him._ Aw...dammit. My phone."

[Click and silence.

Click and we hear Elias talking to someone, though we can't hear the other end of the conversation.]

"No, Jon, I just--yes, I understand that you're-. No, of course I didn't mean for him to--Jon, let me speak! Jon! Jon?"

[Click and silence.

Click.

There are several seconds of silence, followed by Elias's voice. It is raspy and a little slurred.]

"Statement of Elias Jones, head of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement given 30th of June, 2016. Recorded directly from subject. Pertaining to the upbringing of Jonathon Jones, the Archivist."

[There is a sloshing of liquid moving in a glass bottle, then the sound of Elias swallowing, followed by a hiss and a groan.]

"I know you don't want to talk to me right now, Jon. You don't understand it right now, but all of this was done to protect and take care of you. You're my son."

[Elias's voice breaks for a moment before he recovers his equilibrium.]

"You know I met your uncle Peter before you were born? Even though we only started dating after he'd adopted you?

"I was 14 at the time. I went to the beach and saw a much bigger boy with a man I thought at the time was his grandfather."

[A wry laugh.]

"I'm sure Simon Fairchild would find the mistake terribly amusing. I don't think I would have remembered that boy, shy and awkward, hiding behind his grandfather, if he hadn't come over to talk to me. He said he liked my hair. Called it bright. I think I remember him being literally pushed, but I could be wrong. I don't remember my childhood well anymore."

[Another slosh-swallow-hiss-groan.]

"In 1996, I became head of the Magnus Institute. I wasn't asked if I wanted the position, and I wasn't prepared for it. Jonah was. He taught me. Is me, I think? It all bleeds together, some days. But he knew a Lukas when he saw one, and together, we went looking for that strange boy who'd called my hair bright."

[A soft sound, human and pained, but in a way that likely isn't physical.]

"His name was Peter Jones, because he wasn't a Sims, even if his adopted mother was. She wasn't a hard woman, but neither was she gentle. She raised her children into fine adults, and when her grandson became orphaned, she would have taken him in, though she wouldn't have been happy about it. She didn't have to because Peter did.

"Oh, you should have seen the two of you together, Jon. He was such a good father, always has been. It's the shyness and anxiety from his childhood, I think. It made him so gentle, so kind, so understanding. You were a little monster, but _I_ liked that about you. Even at 7, you asked questions with a bald determination that demanded answers, and I have always been happy to give an answer."

[A sniffle, soft rustling, the sound of someone quietly blowing their nose before sighing again.]

"We wouldn't have sent you to visit your grandmother if we'd known she'd find you a Leitner by accident. Of course we wouldn't have. But she wasn't us, used to your whims with books. She did what she could to keep you entertained, and she accidentally found you the Web. I knew as soon as I saw you next, of course, but that scared me. More than I ever knew that I could be scared for any person. I'd been dating Peter a year at that point, and you still wouldn't call him papa, even then, but I knew I couldn't let the Web have you. Beholding would be kind to you, and you were as good as built for it, anyway.

"I didn't tell Peter. He didn't understand why I was suddenly so invested in you, couldn't have understood the danger you were in. So, I just didn't explain. I taught you how to ask questions in ways to get them answered, and you liked me better for it because you could get the answers you so craved.

"You were 12 when we got married the first time. Do you remember the party? With all of Peter's friends, those of the Sims family who were left…"

[There is a long silence for a moment before Elias continues.]

"The older lady with the harsh voice and the piercing gaze. The younger one, chipper and friendly. The blond man with the ringlets and the willful ignorance of anything negative. I wonder if Gertrude and Rosie recognized you when you got hired in. They saw enough of you at that first party. But then again, Gertrude had a lot on her mind. Maybe one demanding little boy wasn't enough to warrant concern. Or maybe she didn't realize when you got hired in that you mattered. Michael, of course, was already gone by the time you came to work for the Institute.

"Either way, it was our first wedding. It wasn't at all legal, of course, but it counted to us, and to the people who cared about us. When we were able to have the civil union, we did that, and we got legally married when we could as well. All on the same date, so our anniversary would never be in question.

"And you grew up. With us. We raised you, Peter and I. We were fathers to you as best we could be. I taught you to be Beholding and Peter taught you to be human. But I always knew I wanted it to be you to take up the Watchers' Crown. Gertrude, stubborn old cow she was, never wanted it. She spent decades trying to figure out how to interfere, squirm her way out of things. When you were old enough, experienced enough, I killed her. Put a bullet through her head and tidied things up so that you could step into her role.

"Oh, and you've done _marvelously._ You can't imagine how well you've done. In just a few years, you've organized the archive, worked out how to stop the Unknowning, actually done that. You ended the Flesh Hive, you're so _strong,_ Jon. Stronger than Gertrude ever was. A few more years and you could wear the Watchers' Crown. What an honor it would be, to set the crown upon my own son's head. I could never wear it, of course. I am the heart of the archives. I have been Jonah for too long. I know too much. Nothing left to learn."

[A small sob.]

"I told your papa all of that. Two days before our anniversary. I was so proud of you for trying to compel me--you almost succeeded, you know. You're not stronger than me just yet, but you're so close. I thought he'd be happy. Or at least, I didn't think about how this might all sound to him at all, really. I was just so happy you were doing so well.

"We were making dinner, you see, and I couldn't help myself. I told him about how well you were doing, how close we were to the Crown. And then he stopped talking to me. I turned around, and he was just gone. I looked for him. With my physical eyes. With Beholding. I _couldn't find him._ I couldn't find him anywhere."

[Elias's voice breaks now, and he audibly brings his voice back under control, though it remains thick.]

"Three days later, everything that was his disappeared. You don't realize how much your life becomes intertwined with another person's until you see all the gaps where they no longer are. My favorite cutting board has gone missing. I couldn't figure out why until I remembered he bought it to replace an older one. I gradually came to use it more than he did, and it implicitly became mine. I suppose he never forgot it was his."

[There is the sound of sloshing again, followed by swallowing. The swallowing sound continues for a while. When Elias speaks again, he almost sounds calm.]

"I haven't been home in almost a week. I tell myself I'm working extra hard to help you, even though you won't speak to me. I tell myself I have sacrificed so much to our patron, the least I can do is make you a success. But I know the truth. I can't go back to the home we made together. The home we lived and loved in. The home we bought together. I insisted on the kitchen island, you know. He wanted the garden. If he's not back in a few weeks, pick the tomatoes for me? You know how they get. I just can't go back there. Our bed is too big without him. The only thing that keeps me from falling into despair is the fact that you clearly don't think he's dead. It's all I have to hold onto."

[Elias sounds defeated and utterly miserable by the end. He doesn't cry, but his voice is small, helpless, and hopeless.]

"Statement ends."

[Click and silence.

After several seconds, Jon speaks.]

"But I don't know if he's dead or not, Martin. He spoke to me. Once. A week ago. And nothing since then."

"Oh Jon, I'm sure he's okay. He's got to be out there somewhere, right?"

[Scraping sounds, as of a chair being moved, then rustling, and more scraping.]

"Come on. Let's get you some tea."

"Okay."

[We hear two pairs of footsteps departing, then a door opening and closing.

A tape hums quietly for a few moments, the sound building into a staticy whine before turning into a faint whooshing.]

"I am alive, Jon. Papa is here, I swear. I just….can't forgive him. You don't have to tell him, if you don't want to. He doesn't deserve forgiveness. He's not even sorry for what he's done! But I wanted you to know. I'll be around. I just have a lot on my mind right now. I love you so, so much."

[Cloth rustling nearby.]

"I guess I'll turn this off now."

[Click.]


End file.
